


He Remembered

by EmmaChota



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel/Human - Freeform, Did I Mention Fluff, Gadreel Lives (Supernatural), Season 9 Spoilers, Slight Angst?, Supernatural - Freeform, mentions of torture, really fluff tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24497326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaChota/pseuds/EmmaChota
Summary: Just a short-ish drabble I did featuring my favorite angel. I attempted to keep him as close to character as possible. I don't know if I'll ever branch off of this or write more. But I know I'll never get tired of talking about him so <3
Relationships: Gadreel (Supernatural)/You, Gadreel/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	He Remembered

**Author's Note:**

> Contains Season 9 Spoilers.

Sam and Dean had told you not to go into the dungeon. They wouldn’t elaborate why. But you know exactly why. Gadreel, foolish or brave as he was, you still weren’t sure, came to offer a deal. He had finally seen through Metatron’s ruse, and knew that he had been deceived again. But his pleas for the boys to trust him fell on deaf ears. They captured Gadreel and Dean was doing God knows what to him in the sealed off room while Sam had to separate himself from it all. And you couldn’t blame him. Because of the fallen angel, Sam watched his own hands kill Kevin. Was taken for a joyride at his own deception. And he would never be free of that memory. Even the King of Hell pitied him for that. 

Honestly, you hated Gadreel for that. Despised him, even. But night after night you listened to Dean storm out, knuckles bloodied and you were sure that blood didn’t belong to him. At some point you felt yourself feeling sorry for the angel. You weren’t sure how, or why. Maybe it was when you were walking by, unaware Dean was in there, and heard him berating the angel for wanting to die. And the more you thought about it, the more you felt your own heart breaking over it. Why wouldn’t he want to die? He was God’s most trusted, his one job had been to watch over the garden. 

Then he was tricked by Lucifer, subsequently blamed for the downfall of the entire universe. He spent countless thousands of years locked away in heaven’s darkest dungeon, tortured to the brink of death and still all he could think about was making things right again. It made something shift in you. Maybe you saw a little of yourself in him, all the mistakes you made and how you tried to make things right. And so that’s how you found yourself running a soft washcloth under cool tap water, wringing it mostly out as you crept into the room the angel had been trapped in. 

You had no idea where Sam was, Dean had picked up a case a couple hours away. Cas was busy keeping the angels away from the brink of allout warfare. You were putting yourself in a dangerous situation and you knew it. But you couldn’t still the invisible string tugging your heart towards him. 

That’s how you found yourself sliding the big bookshelves to the side, struggling with their weight. As soon as your eyes met his, you felt your heart sink. The ancient angel looked at you with pain, hatred and betrayal blazing in his eyes. He was coated in blood, skin slick with sweat and his hair sticking to his face. Cuts laced him all over but the worst were on his face. 

“I will not talk. And you cannot make me.” He nearly growled out. The deep hum of his voice, you were sure it was meant to sound like a warning but sounded more like a plea.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” You mumbled. His eyes squinted ever so slightly, though his wavering glare never changed. You approached him slowly, showing him the cloth and the other empty hand. “I just want to clean you up a little.”

“What?” He could not hide the surprise and confusion in his voice and on his face. You continued slowly until you stood right in front of him, and kneeled down to settle beside his right knee. 

“You look awful.” You mumbled, and reached up with the cloth. He flinched away slightly but you pressed it gently to a cut on his cheek and gingerly wiped away some dried blood.

Maybe you should’ve felt threatened. Even though he was in an angel trap with binding cuffs, he could easily grab you and overpower you right now. You didn’t bring an angel blade in. But his eyes only showed confusion. He watched your every move, studying your face in case he found any reason to believe you were about to attack him. But you kept your face neutral, not making eye contact as you focused on slowly dabbing away the sweat and blood. You moved on to a particularly rough gash on his forehead, cleaned the trail of blood trickling out his nose then moved onto a split below his lip. You adjusted the cloth to a fresh place on it and worked slowly, it looked pretty painful. 

“There.” You spoke to yourself softly, satisfied that at least his face was free of sweat and blood now. 

His eyes never left your face as you began tending to a few long, angry cuts on his forearm. You were slightly surprised when he actually turned his arm over so you could work on it more easily. 

“Why are you doing this?” He finally mumbled, in a voice softer than you had heard in a while. 

“Because I want to.” You answered simply.

“But, why? After everything I have done?”

You sighed and finished up the last of the cuts, curling the bloodied cloth into your hand as you searched for the right words. 

“I don’t… think you ever meant to hurt anyone.” You whispered, finally meeting his eyes. His brows furrowed as he held your gaze, he studied your words quietly.

“Do you really believe that?” There was some serrated undertone to his words, as if he almost believed you to be mocking him. You placed a hand on his knee, choosing to study the torn fabric of his shirt rather than look him in the eyes right now. 

“I think… you were tricked. And you genuinely thought that you were doing the right thing, for heaven. I don’t think you wanted to kill those angels, I know you didn’t want to kill Kevin. Or meant to hurt anyone. I mean you did heal Sam, you saved Cas and Charlie. And I think that you went against every part of you screaming not to do Metatron’s bidding because you really thought the ends would justify the means.” You lifted your gaze to his. “Maybe you let your desire for redemption cloud your judgement. No apology will bring those angels, or Kevin, back. But that doesn’t mean you have to relive what you’ve already been through for thousands of years.”

“Why should I not?” He finally spoke, voice thick with disgust. 

“Because the moment you realized Metatron needs to be stopped, and the true mission of the angels is to protect humanity, you redeemed yourself. At least you did to me.” 

His eyes widened at your last words. He shook his head slowly. 

“No. No I have not. I do not know why you are showing me kindness, or saying these things. I do not believe them to be true. Perhaps Dean is right and this is what I deserve.”

“No.” You answered firmly, shaking your head. “You can’t tell me what I believe.”

His eyes widened slightly again at this. He took a long moment to process your words, several emotions etching on his features. And honestly you didn’t blame him for being so suspicious of you. All he has known, for thousands of years, is deceit and torture. So rather than expect him to trust you right away, you let it drop for now and stood up slowly from your place in front of him. 

“You’d probably like a little fresh air, huh?” 

Gadreel said nothing, perhaps having exhausted himself verbally already. Instead he nodded slowly. You walked over to the shelves lining the wall and retrieved the key to the cuffs bounding the angel’s wrists. You crossed back over to him and undid the cuffs gently, expecting his wrists to be sore as they were fastened tightly. You pulled them off and let them fall to the floor with a loud sound. The angel peered up at you.

“You are removing them?” He asked in curiosity as he slowly rose from his chair. You hadn't realized before how tall he was, and felt slightly intimidated now that he was staring down at you. But you pushed it aside and answered him truthfully. 

“I trust you.” 

For the first time, you saw his eyes soften slightly. It was tiny, almost undetectable. But you saw it. And you took that as a small win. You removed a tiny portion of the angel trap on the floor and grabbed his hand, pulling him forward. He complied and followed wordlessly as the both of you stepped out of the trap. 

“Where would you like to go?” You asked, dropping his hand and looking up at him. He was slightly taken aback by the question, searching his mind as he hadn’t prepared to be asked such a thing. 

“I do not want to risk you getting in trouble with the brothers.” He said hesitantly. 

“They’re not here. Honestly, I don’t know where Sam is. Cas and Dean are a couple hours away. I know.” You said, a thought lighting up in your mind. “Let’s go outside. You need to see something that isn’t walls.” 

“Are you sure? How do you know I will not just escape, or even harm you?” He asked hesitantly, face tense with seriousness. 

“Because you could have already if you were going to.” You answered calmly, and turned towards the door.

The quiet sounds of his footsteps behind you was the only indication you had that he was still there. For a brief moment you thought maybe you were a little crazy for letting this rogue angel completely go with nobody in the bunker for back up. But, you kept telling yourself that you trusted him. If he wanted to harm you or run away he easily could have as you cleaned his wounds, or when you let his wrists go and removed the warding. Instead he just trailed quietly behind you through the halls of the bunker, trusting you with wherever you were leading him. 

You reached the front door and heaved it open. He caught it as it opened and held it as you both stepped out. You were thankful for the beautiful weather. It was mid-fall, the leaves were in full color and the air smelled heavily of leaves and late bloom. The air was warm and dry, the sun's rays growing weak but still warm. You stretched your arms up languidly then turned to face him.

“Let’s walk.” You said happily, and nearly yelped when his big hand gently grabbed your own. 

“And go where?” He asked, searching your eyes for answers. 

“Wherever you want.” You said softly. 

He thought for a long moment and glanced around, eyes finally landing on a path that led into the flame-colored trees. Still gripping your hand, as if he was ironically afraid you’d run away, he walked towards them and began down the little dirt trail. The smell of autumn tickled your nose as you both moved deeper into the orange-golden forest. You walked without saying anything, though it was a comfortable silence. You chanced a peak up at Gadreel, he looked around him in wonder. Taking in every color, the rustle of the leaves and soft breeze on his skin. 

“I remember.” He breathed quietly.

“Hmm?” 

“In the garden,” he spoke slowly, “it was beautiful. So green and lush, full of flowers and living things. It was perfect. But I knew it was missing something. I picked an area like this and I made the leaves of all the trees the colors of fire. Father liked what I created, and made four seasons so that Adam and Eve could enjoy the beauty of many colors.”

You stoped short, nearly causing the angel to stumble as he was tugged backwards at your hands. He peered at you in confusion, tipping his head. 

“You… created the seasons?” You asked, jaw nearly dropping open. He thought for a moment and answered slowly. 

“Indirectly, I suppose?”

You brought both hands up to your temples as you processed this. 

“Are you kidding me? Gadreel, you made one of humans' most beloved phenomenons!” 

“Come again?” 

“The seasons are wonderful. Each one brings, like you said, a different form of beauty. There are songs and books dedicated to them. It’s one of humanity's favorite wonders. Each person has a favorite, of course. The one right now is mine.” 

“Autumn is your favorite?” He confirmed quietly and you shook your head in agreement. For the first time, a small smile graced his lips. “A good choice. Autumn is my favorite, too.”

You looked up to meet his eyes and felt your heart start to beat a little faster. You had never seen such a peaceful expression on his face, the softness in his pale green eyes. Only now did you notice how honestly he wore his expressions and how painfully unaware of that he was. Without thinking about it you leaned forward and, on tip-toes, delicately wrapped your arms around him. He stiffened at first, you thought of the first time Dean had hugged Cas and realized this was almost definitely the first time Gadreel had been touched in a way that wasn’t intended to cause him harm. 

“It’s called a hug. Humans do it to express fondness.” You giggled against his leather jacket. 

So you gave him a minute to process it and finally felt his body relax and his arms slowly wrap around you in return, his head dipping down to rest on top of yours.

“I like it.” He answered finally, in a low melodic voice. 

You smiled to yourself, listening to the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat and breathing. 

“Gadreel?” You asked, finally leaning back a little to look him in the eyes.

“What is it?” 

“I’m not dragging you back into that bunker.” His body once again stiffened and you stepped away from him slightly. “I can’t.”

“But the brothers… they will be furious with you.” 

“Let them be furious.” You answered, straightening up a little. “I already told you. You do not deserve what you’ve been through. And I know you truly want to give heaven a second chance.” 

He thought for a long moment and finally gave a small nod. “I do, more than anything. But how?” 

“We find Cas. I know he’s on your side Gadreel, I know he knows more than anyone that we’ve all made mistakes we’re not proud of. Especially him.”

Gadreel thought long and hard about this, a war raging in his own mind between fear and desire to make things right. 

“Trust me.” You breathed quietly and he instantly snapped to his senses, eyes focused once more. 

“I trust you.” He answered so quickly it almost seemed automatic. You took his hand in yours and he squeezed it tightly. He continued on, “I will make everything right. And I want you by side through it all. And afterwards as well, if you will still have me. I need someone who has more trust in me than I have in myself.” He swallowed, pale eyes fixed on my own. 

“Yes.” You answered quickly and quietly, nodding in affirmation. 

A change in his features told you he was both relieved and determined now more than ever to make this work. To give heaven a second chance and restore order again. You knew everything would work out, it had to. And you knew you would never be without him now, a thought that brought peace. You matched his determination and nodded that you was ready to do this. He gently placed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his broad chest.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and you were enveloped in a white light as you heard the flutter of his wings.


End file.
